


When You Find Your Medicine, You Take What You Can Get

by candesgirl



Category: Star Trek (2009)
Genre: F/M, Sexual Fantasy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-03-11
Updated: 2012-03-11
Packaged: 2017-11-01 19:48:30
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 417
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/360561
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/candesgirl/pseuds/candesgirl
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>You and Bones. Dirty.</p>
            </blockquote>





	When You Find Your Medicine, You Take What You Can Get

**Author's Note:**

  * For [severinne](https://archiveofourown.org/users/severinne/gifts).



Doctor McCoy has you perched upon his lap, your legs spread out on either side of his as he leans in to nibble at your ear, to lick at the quickened pulse in your neck. He leans in to whisper in his best southern drawl what a pretty lady you are, moving his kisses lower, over your collarbone and up your neck while his hands run down your back, his tongue leaving a wet trail along your jaw. His lips hover over yours, accent becoming thicker with arousal when he tells you you’re a good girl, lips quirked into a sly grin when he pulls back to tilt his head and look at you, to run his hands up your thighs and under your skirt.

He laughs, low and sexy, at your uneven breath, as his thumbs hook under moist fabric, as you lean back against his desk, wanton and flushed. He swears under his breath, damn it, when you arch your back and lean down into him, when his fingers slide into your wet heat. You bite your lip, try not to moan as his skilled surgeon’s fingers curl inside of you, as his thumb grazes your clit and warmth spreads throughout your body. He swears again, voice like whiskey over gravel as he tells you no, no don’t hold it in, no, let me hear you. 

You whine when you feel him pull away from you, until his hands are under you, on your ass, pushing you up onto the desk. He’s telling you how bad he wants to taste you, his lips hot on you through thin cotton until he rips it away, lapping at you like a man dying of thirst. Quickly, skillfully he brings you to that zenith, holding down your hips as you buck up against his mouth, riding out one orgasm even as he brings you to another. 

He stands and quickly pushes his black trousers and briefs down before he hooks your legs up around his shoulders, sinking into you with a guttural moan and words, more words; tight, fuck, wet, damn, hot, yes, god yes. His strokes are strong and sure, slow and deep until you move, wrap your legs around his waist and scratch down his back. More, god you want more and he gives you more, leisurely pace giving way to frenzied, erratic thrusts and filthy words growled against your ear, your skin, your lips until he tenses and comes with your name on his lips.


End file.
